Through The Eye
by Inkling Astrophel
Summary: Of all the detective agencies, in all of Lantern Waste, in all of Narnia, she walks into mine.
1. Prologue: Into the Fire

The slight, though perfectly-proportioned, figure meandered along the banks of the Great River, her skin luminous in the moonlight and her variegated eyes shining more brightly than the constellations peppering the Narnian sky. Her golden tresses carried a brilliance all their own, making her impossible to miss. As she gracefully stepped across a fallen log, she sang softly to herself, her pitch exact. Skirts swishing behind her, the young woman quickened her pace; clearly, the mission which pressed her out-of-doors at such an hour could not wait.

All was silent around her–silent, but not entirely still. A shadow glided through the darkness; though it might easily have outpaced her, it matched her stride, following and observing at a distance. The dryads, who certainly sensed both the malevolent presence in their midst and the girl's obvious peril, held themselves back, either unwilling or unable to aid her. Her own thoughts so captivated her that she failed to notice anything amiss as her pursuer gradually closed the distance separating them.

Finally, she stopped, lowering herself gracefully onto a rock overlooking the placid river. Pulling a piece of paper from the pack she carried, the girl began scribbling feverishly. Periodically, she would read over her work, a pink tinge creeping onto her cheeks. Now drawn close enough to be able to make out the words easily, the unseen watcher grimaced. Action would have to be swift.

And permanent.


	2. Chapter One: Darkening Skies

As I gingerly rubbed my eyes, adjusting to the shockingly early hour, I had no doubt that my partner would already have consumed enough breakfast to feed a small army (that's centaurs for you) before managing to arrive at work well before me. I staggered into the office, yawning, to find that my suspicions were correct. Rather than giving me a polite greeting, or better yet an explanation of what could possibly be important enough to wake me for, he pointedly looked at the position of the sun, shaking his head. As if six o' clock could be good for anything else but sleeping! Sighing wearily, he pushed a thick file in my direction. I closed my eyes, hoping that I was merely in the middle of a dream; unfortunately, when I opened them again the stack of paperwork in front of me was no less intimidating. Sinking down in my chair, I mentally composed yet another excuse for not joining in tonight's revels.

Halfway through the mountain of forms, all needing to be signed in triplicate, I had almost managed to fall asleep at my desk. A hesitant knock sounded at the door; our visitor seemed less than eager to intrude, since several seconds passed in silence before either my partner or I realized that we did, in fact, have a client and he rose to open the door. As she waddled into our office, nose twitching, she blinked and her eyes adjusted to the darkness compounded by layers of dust. I knew that we were in for trouble before the first word was exchanged; I didn't have to live in Narnia long before I could recognize a whiff of Cair Paravel about a body, no matter how unprepossessing their appearance might be. My first question, naturally, was what a mole would be doing serving as royal messenger.

She took our one extra stool without being asked and began to study us both carefully, furrowing her brow and sniffing in evident displeasure. I felt my tail bristling; I may not be much to look at, but I know my business. Fortunately, the centaur actually has manners. While she wrung her hands plaintively, still determining where to begin, he silently set a steaming cup of tea before her.

"Tell us," he intoned, "What news? There must be good reason for you to seek us out."

The mole wrinkled her nose, giving my partner an appraising glance. "True, Centaur. I have a missive, endorsed by the King himself, specifically authorizing me to give you a commission." Her eyes narrowed at this. "If you feel that you can handle it."

Now I don't say that our cluttered, dingy office is fancy, by any means. However, there was just something about the mole's attitude that grated. Stretching to my full height, I used the chair for leverage, hoisting myself onto the table to be seen more easily. Breaking the awkward silence, I cleared my throat and addressed her.

"Well it's not as if we're begging for business," I told her indignantly. "I'll have you know that we're particularly busy this time of year."

I ignored the warning glance from my partner. "Your problem might not interest us…"

The centaur immediately stopped me. "Recall, Greenbough. She's not the one who seeks our aid."

Fixing me with a self-satisfied smirk, our guest handed a tightly rolled document to my partner. I climbed down to the floor and moved closer, attempting to peer over the centaur's massive shoulder without much success. With a frustrated sigh, I waited for quite some time as he, with his usual thoroughness, perused the contents.

Hopping from paw to paw with poorly concealed agitation, I allowed him to read in silence.

"Well? What is it, Sunblade? Hunting after the mole's glasses? Finding out who put salt in her tea?"

With a sigh, the centaur passed me the parchment while our client looked on, nose still firmly in the air. Without twitching a whisker, I managed to wade through the first seven paragraphs of "Thees" and "Henceforths" before I was interrupted by my partner's remarks.

"Besides the fact that the writer is obviously a Son-of-Adam in his early twenties, who has recently spent a great deal of time at the docks, I can glean nothing from this missive. Oh, and may I add that our client, so adequately represented by our guest, is of noble birth. That much is clear. He has yet to marry and is evidently a competent swordsman."

I kept my eyes firmly on the letter to avoid chuckling, but if I had looked at the mole, I would have observed the typical reaction: eyes wide in wonder, jaw hitting the floor. I had seen it hundreds of times before, and I was tempted to point to the grammatical construction of the message, the faint scent of tar, and the excessive concern for a missing Daughter-of-Eve that influenced Sunblade's deductions.

In fact, I was about to interject a few interpretations of my own when the mole dismissed me with a haughty wave of her paw.

"I see your reputation is not entirely unearned," she directed at the centaur, "and you are, on the whole, correct. Your employer, who does not see fit to reveal his identity to you, is indeed placed high among the nobles of the court."

I crossed my forepaws and curled my tail around me. "If he's as noble as you claim, then what harm can there be in telling us who he is?"

The mole fixed me with a withering glare. "You may take my word, squirrel; his motivations are not your concern, and it's nothing to me whether you look into the matter or I go elsewhere."

Sunblade placed a restraining hand firmly on my shoulder, and I bit back a retort. With a small nod, he indicated that he, at least, accepted the terms of our unusual employment. Gritting my teeth, I collected our visitor's cup, which she had placed precariously on the edge of a grimy table. Taking the hint, she adjusted her rather voluminous hat and, with a curt glance, turned towards the door. Somehow, I managed to contain my irritation enough to, with no small effort, perch on my paws and open the door for her. When she'd disappeared from sight, I breathed a sigh of relief, until Sunblade turned his attention on me.

"Greenbough, I understand your disapproval, but you're going to have to trust me. Make no attempt to discover the identity of our employer. Now. What other details does the letter provide us with?"

I looked down at the parchment before answering. "Well, the Daughter-of-Eve was last seen leaving the castle at Cair Paravel sometime between eleven and midnight yesterday. She headed in the direction of the Great River, according to this."

My partner frowned slightly. "Whatever could her errand have been so late at night?"

I shook my head, unable to answer. "And this description of her…it's not helpful in the slightest, Sunblade. I mean, honestly. Are her eyes green, blue, or violet? She's average height. Nothing at all to go by."

He raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps the matter will become clearer when we've visited the place where she disappeared."

I groaned, but I couldn't deny that he was right, as always, and I collected my scarf. Taking six steps for every one of his, I followed the centaur into the chill of a late autumn morning; the problem before us as dark as the ominous clouds that passed overhead.


	3. Chapter Two: Enjoying the Scenery

Narnia's Great River is typically not an ideal place to seek solitude; for the greater part of the year, watercrafts of every description clog even the tributary streams (not to mention the beavers, who will build their homes in the most inconvenient places). Nonetheless, when we trudged to the dismal spot which represented the last known whereabouts of the victim, Sunblade and I were alone. The centaur set to work scouring the clammy earth for any marks which curious bystanders and this morning's drizzle may have left behind while I scrambled into a low hanging branch of a willow tree in order to have an uninterrupted nap-I mean, to gain a better view of the crime scene. The fronds of the willow provided a measure of concealment. Periodically, my partner would make certain satisfied grunts to inform me that he, at least, was vigorously pursuing the inquiry.

My ears perked forward when I detected the sound of hoofbeats, thudding dully against the packed earth. The faun who eventually emerged from the strand of pines set some distance back from the riverbank caught my interest immediately. His eyes moved restlessly between my partner and the brackish water of the river and he took two steps backward when he observed that Sunblade, though immersed in research, had sensed the faun's presence. I valiantly held in a sneeze and leaned against the trunk of my hiding place, ears alert to capture the interview I realized would follow.

"An unseasonable day for an excursion along the river," Sunblade observed.

When he responded, the faun's voice was barely audible. "Y…yes sir, it is in truth. If you'll forgive me, I'll leave you to your—well, I had no idea that anyone else should be here."

My partner wasted no time in fixing his gaze on the faun, who remained rooted to the patch of grass on which he stood. "Since you have chosen to visit this particular location, you'll not mind answering a few questions. It has been requested that I look into a disappearance which occurred late the previous night; the missing person was last seen precisely where you stand."

"Oh my! Now what would I have to do with Daughters-of-Eve, missing or otherwise? I keep to myself," said the faun, his tone measured. As he spoke, he fruitlessly tried to peer beyond my partner, though I couldn't say what he hoped to see.

Sunblade narrowed his eyes, evaluating the faun. "At the very least, I'll need your name and the location where you can be reached for the present. If any further information relating to this matter comes to mind, I expect you'll be forthcoming with it. I am Sunblade, and my office is located due east of the Gathering Circle."

"Terrance Leroy," the faun coolly replied. "A poet by trade, passing through the Waste, and I have been staying at the Twin Oaks inn. Is that quite sufficient? The day's nearly half gone already."

At the centaur's brusque nod, Terrance squelched through the mud, not looking back. When he'd disappeared from view, Sunblade turned towards me.

"You noted, of course, the tracks here that exactly match the ones created by the faun upon his arrival this morning. They are recent. Look-they have yet to be covered over; obviously, he has been here before and knows more than he's saying. I am also sure your quick eyes haven't missed the unusual feather that was dropped just below your willow tree. There may very well be another eyewitness to speak with."

Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up with me, or maybe I can blame it on my empty stomach. Whatever the reason, I couldn't control the impulse to prove that Sunblade wasn't the only one who could get to the heart of a puzzle.

"Sometimes a feather is just a feather. And there's just something about the faun I trust. He probably doesn't have anything to do with the girl vanishing, or whatever happened to her; for all we know he didn't see anything and was passing by on his way back to the inn. "

Sunblade arched a brow at me. "Logic. Follow the evidence. That is your weakness, Greenbough. You are too hasty to discount reason."

I retorted, "And /you/ need to learn the value of instinct. I say we follow the river to its end and see what may have washed up in the current instead of tracking down mythical eyewitnesses."

My words met with a faint smile from the centaur. "Well, in that case there is only one solution."

"Oh? Don't keep me in suspense."

"You follow your proposal and I shall follow mine. We meet back in the office before sunset to compare results."

"That suits me perfectly."

Sunblade nodded briefly and left me to my own devices. It is nearly impossible to concentrate without proper sustenance, so I, still concealed by the willow, helped myself to some berries I had brought with me. I had just bitten into a particularly juicy raspberry and was about to clean my whiskers when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye: Terrance had returned. He was muttering under his breath, so all I could make out from my perch in the tree was "Where is it?" I stayed as still as possible and watched him for several minutes; eventually, he furtively retrieved a wrapped object which had been hidden in the roots of the willow.

Before I had scurried down the trunk of the tree, he was gone again. I let out a slow, frustrated sigh. I tried to follow him, but there were no signs to guide me. Finally, I gave up and made my way to my original destination: Cauldron Pool. Ignoring the spectacular waterfall, I climbed onto a rock and prepared to think through what I'd witnessed. I barely noticed when a sleek head emerged from the water.


	4. Chapter Three: Deep Waters

The face which peeked over the edge of Cauldron Pool was intelligent, inquisitive, and impish: a dangerous combination. With what Sunblade would consider an appalling lack of dignity, the otter flopped onto a nearby rock and shook the water from her coat, sending droplets soaring everywhere. Drier now, she studied me with interest, then waved a paw and called out cheerily,

"H'lo! I've been trying to catch up with you since just north of Beaversdam."

I wiped the water off of my nose, disgusted that I hadn't been aware of being trailed. I planned to leave that part out when I reported to Sunblade.

"May I ask why?"

Her black eyes gleamed. "That centaur takes himself too seriously…and I want to help." With this, the otter held out a paw for me to shake. "I'm Neharah."

I grasped a claw and shook, returning the introduction. "It's a nice offer, but what makes you think you'll be able to contribute to this investigation?"

Neharah withdrew, her expression of hurt causing me pinpricks of guilt. I mumbled an apology. Ignoring me, she dove into the water and emerged a moment later to lounge on "her" rock. Tossing an object (I could just make out a metallic gleam) from paw to paw, the otter spoke again.

"Well I /was/ going to tell you what I saw last night, but if you're going to be that way about it…" her words trailed off. Setting her treasure carefully on the rock, she looked up at me expectantly.

"I did say I was sorry. Please, Neharah—my partner and I may very well be trying to save a girl's life."

Unable to resist my charm or the earnestness of my entreaty, the otter's face split into a huge grin. Arranging herself half in and half out of the water to keep cool, she began.

"I think I know who you're talking about. I was fishing, and it must have been just after I caught a perch. Or it could have been around the time I found that sturgeon. Maybe it was the carp…"

I had to interrupt. "I'm sure you're quite the fisherbeast, but let's keep focused on the Daughter-of-Eve."

Neharah gave me an exaggerated sigh. "With her making music, the fish disappeared. Not even a tadpole the rest of the night. I was going to try to speak to her—anyone that shiny has to be kind as well—but she just went on. I don't think she even saw me."

I frantically tried to put the questions swarming through my brain in order. "What did she look like? Did you see anyone with her? Where exactly were you and what direction was she going?"

She chuckled, but my glare stopped her. "If you'll slow down, I'll tell you. She was about twice as tall as I am, and her dress was blue, like that cornflower over there. I remember because it matched her eyes. I saw her head west from where you and the centaur were this morning with a pair of dryads: ash and birch, I think."

Flattery is a powerful tool. "You've been most clear, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. Someone as observant as you are must have noticed: what was her mood when she left with the dryads? Did she seem nervous? Pleased?"

The otter considered. "Not frightened…more like enthusiastic. She went with them willingly."

She retrieved her item from the stone and began playing with it again; it rolled out of her paws and she went after it with a yelp. I was slightly faster than she was. I stood puzzled, holding the most vulgar, gaudy ring imaginable: an enormous pink diamond, flanked by smaller pink diamonds, was set into a band of rose gold. I looked at the otter, seeking an explanation.

Neharah showed her displeasure. "I found that in the water last night. May I have it back, please?"

I don't know an emerald cut diamond from a baguette diamond, but I can identify potential evidence, even if it's hideous. "If this ring belonged to the Daughter-of-Eve, then it may provide a hint about what happened to her. I'll need to keep it for now."

The otter's entire body drooped. "If you have to, I suppose."

"What if I find you something equally sparkly?" At this, Neharah's nose started to twitch, indicating renewed interest.

The two of us pawed through the soft mud near the pool for at least twenty minutes, the sun now beating down on us from overhead. I was looking at the water with longing when the otter gave a delighted squeal. She had unearthed a smooth piece of black stone and stood admiring its reflective surface. Neharah was too distracted by the onyx to give much notice to my quiet departure. With hours remaining before my meeting with Sunblade, I had need of all the time left. I would follow where the ring led: into the murky world of romance.


	5. Chapter Four: Turn the Page

_The following is an excerpt from the journal kept by Sunblade, former member of the Centaur Council, during the period of the investigation_

Greenbough tends to narrate events with his own particular…flair. Thus, I find it necessary to record the pertinent details which are left out of his colorful descriptions; it is essential to have an accurate accounting for my own future reference. However, when I come to set down my recollections of today's events, I find the task more difficult than I anticipated. I lack Greenbough's facility with words. Facts, as I have often reminded him, build a case. Though he brushed aside the feather discovered at the site where the Daughter-of-Eve was last seen, I would not. Years worth of research told me that the pinfeather, for such it was, belonged to a Long-eared owl. Observer or participant in the night's events, the feather's owner had become a subject of interest.

I returned to the office and consulted the list of contacts I had amassed: Plinbeak, whom I had employed as informant on several occasions, would prove useful in this instance as well. A note sufficed to call the owl to my aid, along with the promise of a meal if he was successfully able to convince the owl I sought to accompany him using whatever pretext his agile mind devised. It was just past noon, therefore, when the three of us assembled in my lodgings. Plinbeak introduced his sturdy companion as Miritalon.

"I brought him, as I promised you, and it took some doing given the time. Wouldn't have done it, either, if not for the debt I owe you."

"My thanks, Plinbeak. I would not have made the request if not for the urgency of the matter, as I explained when I sent for you." I turned to the smaller of the two owls next. "You were abroad, last night, were you not? Along the Great River just north of Beaversdam. "

He nodded. "I was perched on a branch of a willow tree, overlooking the river. Though I don't see how you came to know my exact location."

"A simple enough conclusion when a feather remained, testifying to your presence. Did you witness anything out of the ordinary?"

"If you mean the Daughter-of-Eve, wearing gold and shining brighter than the horrible sun above us, then I confess I did." Miritalon's reply was direct. Stretching a talon, he speared another piece of meat from the platter before us. At my nod of assent, he continued. "She was alone when she came to the bank of the river."

"But not when she departed?"

"It pained my eyes to look at her, she shone that brightly" the owl continued, "and I cannot speak to what I did not observe."

"Then what did you note, Meritalon? Your account interests me."

He fluffed his feathers and coughed to clear his throat before proceeding. "She was seated on the edge of a stone and must have seen something to fascinate her in the water; as I watched, she leaned too far over, and the current had her in its grasp before I could react. You would have been able to do no more in my place."

I sobered with the mounting concern that all our efforts would be too late, but I persisted. "Her cries may have brought another to pull her from the water."

Meritalon's great eyes glowed yellow in the dimness of the room. "The river is strong. If I could not reach her, close as I was, that hope is frail. The Great River holds onto its secrets. I will do what I can for you by reporting what I find and asking the other owls to do the same. "

"That is all I desire of you, and Plinbeak knows where I may be reached."

Plinbeak hooted his agreement. "That I do, although after you set those Ironholt dwarves straight about what became of their gold I would think you'd have been able to afford a larger office. You never did learn to accept a generous reward when offered, for all your brains."

My features broke into an unaccustomed smile. "Greenbough and I have the liberty to look into whatever puzzles intrigue us. That is reward enough, my friend."

Deduction is a tedious process, an aspect which has never appealed to my partner (who would rather spend the time exerting himself than contemplating). The owls took wing, and I reflected. You cannot work with someone without absorbing certain habits of theirs. Greenbough is precipitous on occasion, but that does not mean he errs. Something about this case resonated; I was convinced that if I allowed myself to dwell on the peculiarities, some long-buried intuition would take over and a solution would present itself. Several hours spent pouring over arcane research books and my own notes did little to lighten the darkness which enshrouded me.

I cannot commit to these pages the identity of our employer, but I understood that the impact of our failure in this matter would be immense. Thus, we could not fail. In minute detail, I reviewed the contents of his letter, emerging even more befuddled than before. Did the evidence mislead? I could not accept that. My mind turned over the story told by the Daughter-of-Eve's last known location, once more considering every mark, each broken branch. Greenbough would have laughed to see me pacing the room.

As I often do when presented with an obscure problem, I turned my thoughts away from the Daughter-of-Eve and spent the rest of the afternoon before Greenbough's return pleasantly enough. I am a student of the past, and Telmarine genealogies provided sufficient distraction. Our present ruler's ancestral history contains numerous features of curiosity and the distance of centuries allows for perspective. I read on from one Caspian to the next, soothed by the orderly dynastic charts.


	6. Chapter Five: Ends Unraveled

I trudged into the office shortly before the sun dipped below the horizon. Having no success tracing the ring set my mood, which wasn't at all improved when I saw how Sunblade had occupied himself in my absence. Honestly, I'd hoped he would find better uses for his time than burying himself in old records that have less than no bearing on what did or didn't happen to the Daughter-of-Eve. Sunblade caught my entrance out of the corner of his eye.

"What have you discovered, Greenbough? If your endeavors have also been productive, then we have much to say to one another."

"In fact," I replied, "I've tracked the girl's movements and even uncovered an eyewitness willing to aid us in our search. I'd consider that fruitful, even by your standards."

It isn't often that I manage to impress my partner; the glint of approval in the centaur's eyes was reward for what had, until now, been a frustrating day. "You have done well. While you spent your time at Cauldron Pool, I have traced the feather to its source." He anticipated my question. "Don't wonder at it, Greenbough. My abilities would be much in question if I wasn't able to identify the grit that still clings to your paws."

I told him every particular the otter had related to me, and a slow change came over him. The increasing severity of his expression showed me that the perpetrator we sought could expect no leniency.

"What is it," I asked, "that I have yet to see in this case?"

"It's not a matter of seeing, my friend, but of interpreting. We have two witnesses to the events of yesterday, yet no detail matches. What do you make of it?"

My bafflement was obvious. "One must have lied—but how will we manage to sniff out which one? Even more important, we need to find out what they hoped to gain from deceiving us."

Sunblade nodded his agreement. "Well reasoned. I believe the girl to be alive; nonetheless, time presses and her continued safety is far from guaranteed."

The thought was sobering. "You have a plan." This wasn't a question; I knew the centaur's mind well. "But how do you suggest we gain access to Cair Paravel? It may be under construction, but there will still be security. I know you're considering searching the victim's room; though we've been over the scene of the crime and interviewed witnesses, we're nowhere near understanding what happened."

The centaur rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You may well find that our employer has already arranged for our visit to the castle."

I crossed the room. "That's the other issue I have. How can we conduct our inquiries when we have mystery at /both/ ends? I don't like it, Sunblade."

Instead of the lecture I prepared myself for, my partner responded with a wan smile. "I have only reached a probable conclusion as to their identity…and there's a gap between what's likely and what's certain. If I am correct, however, there should be no reason to concern yourself with trifles like being allowed past the guards." I frowned, still confused as to how Sunblade planned to accomplish this, but I knew that he was right most of the time.

After we parted, I spent a restless night; I woke several times to the feeling that the connection I needed was just outside my grasp. Dawn found me already on the way to Sted Cair in the company of Sunblade, and several hours later we caught sight of Cair Paravel as a gleam on the horizon. I have no desire to risk sounding like a travelogue, but I will mention how imposing the palace is. Our sovereign, Caspian X, began massive renovations and a bustling community sprang up around the ruins.

Sunblade pressed our way through groups of merchants peddling items ranging from mirrors to roses in every conceivable color. I nearly lost sight of my partner when I paused, for only a second of course, to buy roasted nuts for a very belated breakfast. The centaur tapped my shoulder and we forced our way to the wrought iron gates separating the castle from the world outside.

True to form, my partner hadn't spoken ten words to the porter, who happened to be a cardinal, when she ushered us through into the Great Hall. Servants were still clearing away the debris from last night's feast, and I could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at the periphery of my brain. Sunblade wasted no time (he never does).

"We would like to speak with the maids responsible for the care of the Daughter-of-Eve."

The bird ducked her head in a show of respect. "Very well, sir. As you say—I'll have them for you immediately. Whatever you need, those are the orders." At this, her words degenerated into a trill.

She guided us down a maze of corridors, and I found myself wishing for a map or at least a compass; I was sure we'd never manage to remember the way out. I was winded after the first several dozen hallways. Dust left from the builder's efforts recorded our steps, so I reassured myself that we could at least retrace those to the exit before we starved.

"Here's the room she was assigned," the cardinal informed us. "I'll hunt up the maids for you while you carry on here. Just a warning: It's rather a mess."

Sunblade's eyes met mine. "Searched?"

Her laughter rose until she was unable to hold it in. "Not at all! We were ordered to leave it untouched, though I've been longing to have those maids take a broom to it." With that, she was off, twittering away to herself. I let Sunblade, who had the advantage of height, turn the handle of the solid oak doorway.


	7. Chapter Six: A Room With a View

As the door cracked open, my nose was assaulted with a particularly cloying brand of perfume. I imagined that such a strong concentration must have come from several broken bottles and wondered if there had been some sort of struggle before the girl's departure from the castle. I was mistaken. The Daughter-of-Eve hadn't occupied the suite of rooms assigned to her for more than a few weeks. Still, every surface was imprinted with her presence. I could not begin to list all of the items that were strewn across the space: suffice it to say that the girl must have kept the castle dressmakers working at a frenetic pace from the moment of her arrival.

When I glanced towards Sunblade, he couldn't quite conceal the flash of aversion that flitted across his face. "We came here to determine what sort of an individual the victim is. What are your conclusions?"

"That she'll no doubt be meticulously attired when we find her," was my dry remark.

The centaur broke into a horsy snort, then resumed his study of the overly sugared confection of a bedroom. It would be impossible to envision a more out-of-place figure than my partner, surrounded by every conceivable shade of pink. I thought that the ring given to me by the otter must belong to the Daughter-of-Eve for no other reason besides the impossibility of two individuals so obsessed with that particular hue. My laughter threatened to spill over as Sunblade held up a lace bag filled with cosmetics which my sister, who considers herself an expert, would be hard pressed to name. No wonder the eyewitnesses had trouble with an accurate description. The Daughter-of-Eve must be well trained in how to disguise the way she looked.

I was about to relay this observation to Sunblade when the door swung wider to admit the two maids, who entered with hesitation. They bobbed low curtsies to the centaur, not noticing me behind the massive canopy (pink, of course). The fox kit, bolder of the two, gave her name: Keeley.

"Good day to you sir. Mistress Elina told us you wanted to speak to us." Surveying the room, she gave a small, derisive sniff. "And I'll have you know that leaving this mess was none of our doing."

The corners of Sunblade's mouth twitched. "Indeed."

By Keeley's side, the small, dark brown rabbit visibly trembled until the fox whispered something into her ear. Once this creature, who I later learned went by the name Lavender, began to chatter, she soon emerged as the more talkative of the two.

"Are you going to find her? I've been so worried. She never would tell me what the trouble was, even after I became her close friend. Please bring her back, sir."

Her reaction surprised me. Thus far, she was the only one to express any emotion resembling sorrow at the girl's disappearance. The fox kit stiffened; her expression fluctuated between indifference and a more active dislike as I watched.

When I stepped forward and gave a quizzical head tilt, Keeley informed me, "No, I'm not unhappy that she's gone." Lavender let out a surprised little gasp. "And you wouldn't be either if you'd spent more than five minutes with that insufferable…" Her words trailed off, but her meaning was clear. My partner's "heh" met with a blaze of defiance flashing from the fox kit's eyes.

Lavender began to weep. "Don't speak like that, Keeley, especially when we don't know what's become of our poor lady."

"That one had pretentions," Keeley countered, "but she' was /not/ a lady."

The rabbit's face crumpled, but she didn't argue further. I leaned back against the wall only to realize that it wasn't as solid as it appeared. Lavender was horrified at my discovery.

"You leave that be. It's where she kept her special things and she only trusted me to know where they were. That's 'cause we were such dear friends."

Needless to say, I ignored her entreaties and reached my paw into the cavernous space. I grimaced, sure that whatever I touched would be distasteful. My paw closed around a stack of letters, which I pulled out to study in the rosy light of the chamber. These, at least, weren't pink. The author hadn't bothered signing his name; that would be far too easy. Instead, the epistles, each a good ten pages in length, ended with a simple "X". My face contorted into a scowl when I realized that I held love letters. The writer, no doubt, was the one who had involved us when the girl vanished. I forced myself to endure the saccharine prose before handing the bundle over to the centaur. He spent a great deal longer going over them.

"You must have some notion," he said, addressing the maids, "of who might have sent these."

The rabbit pursed her lips. "That's my mistress's business, and I don't see why I should share it with you."

"Never mind, miss. I have a good idea who he is regardless."

I continued to search the hiding place, recovering a distinctly masculine handkerchief, several dried roses (pink) bound together with a scrap of ribbon (also pink), and a journal (yes, pink). The journal was blank, for the most part, and several pages had been cut out with a blunt tool. If the writing was as vapid as the rest of the room, I owed whoever had removed them a debt of gratitude. What I could make out on the few pages that remained was enlightening. The Daughter-of-Eve's name was doodled on the inside cover as part of a florid design.

How she managed to find bright pink ink to write with was beyond me. I made a note to check with the castle stationer; such a unique order would not go unnoticed. Now at least I could start referring to her as Mariah Rosamund Beatrice Katherine Byron, if I could manage to pronounce all of those together, that is. Every spare surface of the paper was overrun with hearts. Our mistress Mariah was a textbook hopeful romantic. I began to be aware of raised voices in the background: the maids had begun bickering.

"Well you shouldn't have let her out of your sight…" the rabbit screeched.

The fox kit retorted, "Why don't you worry about your own job and stop telling me how to mind mine?"

"Enough!" This interjection came from me, but I was roundly ignored by both parties.

Sunblade fixed them both with a withering stare, and the room went quiet. "You will stop this at once, or I will remove you from this room. If you wish to help your mistress, tell us everything you can."

It was Lavender who broke the stubborn silence first. She pulled from her apron pocket a torn and stained piece of parchment and with a "Here" shoved it in Sunblade's direction.

Keeley's eyes were huge. "You took that from /her/! Mistress Elina will hear about this."

"Hush," the centaur remonstrated as he peeled open what the rabbit had given him.

It proved to be a detailed diagram of the new ship King Caspian was constructing—had been constructing, rather. Without warning, he had ordered a halt to the project a month earlier, to the general disapproval of those Narnians who counted on the employment. Even in the Waste we had heard vague grumblings of discontent, though the king was still too popular for them to grow into anything more sinister.

I voiced the question that must be in Sunblade's mind as well. "This doesn't fit. What would she be doing with plans for the…" I glanced down at the paper. "Dawn Treader?"

Keeley's contempt was obvious. "She wanted it completely redesigned. Even insisted His Majesty rename it after her."

Sunblade and I both blinked a bit, unsure just what to say to this. After we had dismissed the two, I knew our inquiries would lead us to the Dawn Treader so we could find out why this girl had such sway. Unfortunately for Sunblade, he was unaware of my tendency towards seasickness.


	8. Chapter Seven: Sea Legs

The queasiness started to wash over me the second I set paw on the plank. The hazards of my profession paled, however, as I took in the sheer scope of the vessel. Instead of "Dawn Treader", she should have been christened "Giant" or "Elephant". The ship was packed with workbeasts, and I had to look sharp to avoid being trampled underhoof, underpaw, underclaw, or underfoot. It was simple to find my partner: not only did Sunblade stand well above the rest of the crowd, but he was also the only one wearing a massive scowl. He was absently flicking a chip of gold paint off the railing with a fingernail. Even if the Dawn Treader's crew hadn't been too caught up with the modifications and repairs to notice this willful destruction of crown property, whether anyone would have had sufficient reserves of courage to stand up to Sunblade at that moment was debatable.

I scrambled to his side in time to catch the rapid flick of his tail which was a sure sign of mounting displeasure. Nothing appeared to be amiss; in fact, the Dawn Treader was a very model of industry. King Caspian was ensuring at the work proceeded at a rapid pace, though from all accounts he was the one who had put a stop to the production a month ago. I mused on this until the hammering became too disruptive to continue any sort of coherent thought. Not that any slowing in construction could possibly make it more difficult to pick up the trail of seven lords who vanished decades ago. Once again, I was thankful that the centaur and I had never been asked to become involved in that particular piece of sleuthing. Sunblade spoke into my ear, and what he said made me freeze.

"She would never be seaworthy if the notations on the plans we viewed were followed to the letter."

"What?" My tone reflected astonishment. "Our monarch would have been advised of that. Why allow currency to flow into a ship that wasn't worth the timber it was made of?"

Noticing the decidedly unfriendly glances cast in our direction by the workers, the centaur drew me aside. "Softly, Greenbough. Our sovereign isn't known for his sailing expertise. He must have sought counsel, and thus the lapse in judgment takes on a more sinister aspect."

"You mean," I said, after taking a deep breath to steady myself, "that he was deceived for a purpose?"

Sunblade answered with a curt nod after ensuring that our conference hadn't attracted any extra attention. "Precisely. Someone didn't want him to leave Narnia."

My mind wrapped itself around this development. "Fairly short-range thinking on their part, since Caspian and his crew would be bound to catch on almost immediately. Still, with the months it would take to rebuild her, they'd buy themselves some time, at the very least."

Sunblade nodded again to this. Surreptitiously, he pointed out seven different design flaws which would, when taken together, make the Dawn Treader unfit for the lengthy sea voyage the king had planned. A buzzing on the main deck heralded the arrival of Caspian X. Seeing a still portrait on a gallery wall is nothing to seeing the man himself. He strode forward onto the deck as if born for a life at sea. To think that up until a very short time ago, the Telmarines had been terrified of the ocean, and much of what was once commonplace had been lost. I, of course, couldn't tell a mainsail from a mizzenmast. At once, the assorted Narnians dropped to their version of knees in a show of respect. Caspian stood near the prow and addressed us all.

"I wish to dispense with formality and speak to you as my equals, free Narnians, and not as your king. I would be surprised if any here did not know the history of my family, for good and ill. It is a tale filled with both great achievement and equally great disgrace. I have not always been the king you deserved. On many occasions, you have had to remind me of the pride which I ought to have had in our nation, for your sakes and for the sake of Him who set me on my throne. This Dawn Treader, which we stand upon, represents a vow. Through Aslan's aid, we shall discover, if any possibility remains of doing so, the whereabouts of the seven lords who fled from my uncle. Your service shall not soon be forgotten."

This speech was met with a general air of approval, and Caspian was swift to build on the atmosphere of support by mingling with the workers and the crew. Sunblade's gaze never left the figure of the king, and I detected pensiveness in his manner. I couldn't help but study Caspian as well.

Slowly, Caspian made his way towards us, not that I could see much with the crowds pressing around him. He did something unusual, which would have catapulted him into my good graces if his words had failed to; in short, he noticed me.

"I was told that you were one of those enlisted to recover Mariah. Is this so?" I confessed that it was and he continued. "I would personally ask you to spare no efforts in locating her." His face rather than his words convinced me of how very much she mattered to him.

I blinked and he had already moved on. Sunblade cast a glance in my direction as if to say, "See?" I was stunned. Could it be that we were working for the king himself? Naturally, Sunblade must have determined this early on. He and I went below decks, and I'm proud that I managed to keep down my lunch despite the swaying ship's best efforts. Speaking with the crew convinced me that some had known the defects once the plans for the Dawn Treader were altered, but they hesitated to speak when the king insisted that it should be built according to them. Where he'd been getting his advice from I could only guess. Who else would insist on getting rid of some of the smaller landing crafts to make more room for larger quarters with double the amount of closet space? I supposed she had a point. If for some reason the voyage went ahead despite her best efforts to sabotage the plans, at least she'd be stylish along the way.

Such ideas were racing through my mind as I prepared to disembark. Sunblade, having an appointment with another client, had gone ahead of me. I was roughly pulled aside and a voice, which the owner took some pains to disguise, whispered.

"There is someone who wishes to speak to you and provide vital information regarding a certain missing person. They are peculiar and insist upon certain precautions. You will not know either the location you'll be brought to or the identity of the one who sent me. Should you agree, you'll be blindfolded and you will swear to refrain from tracing them."

Far be it from me to resist temptation. I agreed, was blindfolded, and was shoved into some sort of wagon. For the next hour I could see nothing, but I began to suspect that I was being taken around in circles, and that the place they—whoever "they" were, conveyed me to was actually nearby, creating the need to confuse me. I further guessed that a little motion sickness would soon become the least of my concerns.


	9. Chapter Eight: Words, Words, Words

_The following represents a partial transcript of a conversation held by Greenbough, detective, during the time of his kidnapping. He was unable to identify either where he was held or who his abductor was._

GREENBOUGH:

I'm not intimidated by a little danger.

INTERROGATOR:

There is more danger present than you realize.

GREENBOUGH:

You've told me nothing that would make me believe that or give up the investigation.

INTERROGATOR:

That will come in time. What is it that you /do/ know of this case? I do not wish to waste breath telling you what you already know.

GREENBOUGH:

That there are those in power who will ensure that those responsible are brought to justice...I hope you recognize yourself there.

INTERROGATOR:

I am aware of this fact. As are most in Narnia. Tell me what I am /not/ certain of.

GREENBOUGH:

You apparently /don't/ know that neither my partner nor I have ever been convinced to give up a case. We know where the daughter of eve was last seen. We have eyewitness reports. It won't be long before we're able to track you.

INTERROGATOR:

You would forgo your promise not to?

GREENBOUGH:

Sunblade made no such promise.

INTERROGATOR:

Does not 'we' include yourself? And have I attempted to convince you to give up the case? I have simply said there may be more danger than you realize.

GREENBOUGH:

I only promised not to trace you back here, wherever /here/ is. Not to permanently shield a criminal...and perhaps a traitor, if what I suspect is accurate.

INTERROGATOR:

Suspect what you will. I know the truth. And the truth shall always make itself evident in due time.

GREENBOUGH:

You think you'll be vindicated for going against your sovereign?

INTERROGATOR:

Remember this, though. In your business it is a truth you should know well: Things are not always as they first appear.

GREENBOUGH:

And what, praytell, is the /truth/ here that I'm not seeing?

INTERROGATOR:

Have you considered the possibility that maybe... just /maybe/... having this girl back will do more harm than if she remains missing? You see what she has done to the Dawn Treader.

GREENBOUGH:

I did. But I don't consider a few naval modifications to be grounds to...eliminate her.

INTERROGATOR:

She will not stop there. Things are not as they seem. Victim and perpetrator are not as clear-cut as you may believe. Do not be so set on what you perceive to be the truth... for it may fail you and hold dire consequences in the process.

GREENBOUGH:

Talk is cheap. I'm going to need more evidence than the word of a kidnapper who may very well be a murderer.

INTERROGATOR:

You demand evidence when you call me such with no evidence yourself?

GREENBOUGH:

The girl's missing, isn't she? That's evidence of some wrongdoing.

INTERROGATOR:

I am not here to harm. You will note I have done nothing to harm you thus far, nor will I. Your choices are your own. I simply offer what help I can, odd a form as it may take to you. Think long and hard about what you are getting into. Wrongdoing on whose part? Is it not custom to do away with those who have done wrong against the country by banishment? Is that wrongdoing on the part of the one who is banished, or the one who does the banishing?

GREENBOUGH:

You refuse to restore her, then, even though you admit that you caused her disappearance and that you know where she is?

INTERROGATOR:

Have I said such? I merely ask the question. You say the girl is missing is evidence of wrongdoing. That much is certain. But on whose part is the wrongdoing? Are you certain you know?

GREENBOUGH:

What threat could she be? She'd break a nail if she tried to harm anyone.

INTERROGATOR:

There are more ways to harm than by physical means. You of all people should know better than to underestimate a potential threat.

GREENBOUGH:

Speak /plainly/ then.

INTERROGATOR:

Appearances can be deceiving. Why do you wish me to speak plainly? Are not riddles your business?

GREENBOUGH:

The unraveling of riddles. You, however, seem to be creating more with every word.

INTERROGATOR:

Fine then. What I say shall boil down to this. On the surface she seems harmless. But I hope you are wise enough to see the hints that there is more to her than meets the eye. Should she return, there will be consequences none of you could have foreseen. And you will not realize it until it is too late to rectify the situation. The choice as to whether you will take that chance is up to you. Know, however, that I am one who holds truth in high regard. It is always revealed in the end. But it is not always what we think it is.

GREENBOUGH:

Is there any threat that would justify either the actions you've taken or the deception you've perpetrated to prevent discovery. You claim to honor truth, and yet I'm not even permitted to look you in the eye.

INTERROGATOR:

Would it have made any difference?

GREENBOUGH:

If the situation is as grave as you suggest, why not come forward and openly fight it? There are proper channels if you have a grievance.

INTERROGATOR:

The truth has been skewed so terribly few can unravel it properly. And what makes you so certain I have not tried to do so openly?

GREENBOUGH:

What steps did you take short of crime, then? And how can you claim that it's your role to determine what she does or doesn't deserve, no matter what she's done?

INTERROGATOR:

You are in the business of uncovering truth. Do not eliminate possibilities until you have reasonable cause to do so. I fear you are not considering all possible aspects of the case.

GREENBOUGH:

I fully intend to find the truth in this matter. I'll ask again. Who made you her judge?

INTERROGATOR:

The truth. I am one of the few who sees her for what she is. And what she will do to Narnia if she remains.

GREENBOUGH:

And what is she, then?

INTERROGATOR:

I do not think there is a word that can encapsulate everything she is. Though, perhaps she could be described as a sort of... enchanter. Does that mean the threat does not exist? And is it not a sign of a true enchanter than nobody believes her to be one. Once again, all is /not/ as it seems.


	10. Chapter Nine: The Game

I was dropped rather roughly just in front of the path leading up to the Dawn Treader. In keeping with what I promised, I didn't remove my blindfold until a decent interval had passed. Dusk had fallen, leading me to conclude that the strange interrogation I'd just been subjected to had lasted longer than I'd anticipated. Certain natural conclusions had already jumped into my mind. Once, when I'd nearly fallen out of whatever they used to transport me, I was steadied by what could only be a set of talons. That together with the raspy cawing could only mean that one of those we sought must be a crow. If I was wise, I could have tried to reason with him, perhaps even convincing him to turn on his employer. I suspected that, like me, he would resent having to be second to a more formidable intelligence.

As nice as it would have been to gripe a bit and then collapse into bed and shut out everything having to do with Daughters-of-Eve for the next ten hours or so, I had a trek back to the office, in the dark, even. Aching paws, at least, would compliment my pounding head nicely. Managing to put one paw in front of the other, repeated several hundred times, I made it back in a fairly respectable time. I couldn't stifle a groan when I heard the rise and fall of two voices. Sunblade's was unmistakable; strangely, I couldn't shake the suspicion that I had also heard the second speaker's voice before. Sunblade has told me thousands of times that detection involves acquiring knowledge without giving any thing away. I'm not usually a fan of eavesdropping unless there's no way I'm going to get caught…and, of course, when I can learn something useful. I was only standing outside the door to catch my breath after my hike back. If I happened to be in the exact right spot for words to carry, I can scarcely be blamed for that.

"Why have you finally decided that Greenbough and I are worthy of your confidence, and why, when you weren't forthcoming with us at first, should I now take you at your word?" My partner's statement preceded several moments of silence.

"How could I know you weren't in league with _them_?" At this point, it dawned on me that Sunblade was talking to the faun from the scene of the crime (if crime it was—I was beginning to have doubts about that). "You might have come back to secure the last piece of proof you were there." Terrance sounded indignant.

I buried my face in my paws. Depending on what the faun's new story was, I might have been spared everything I'd been through in the past twenty-four hours. It was time for Terrance Leroy to enlighten us. I pulled the door open and their eyes gravitated towards me.

"Greenbough!" Sunblade called out, "your timing is a credit to our agency. He was just about to show me the item he picked up at the base of the willow tree. You surely noticed him, seeing as you were concealed in the branches."

Terrance glowered at me. "You should have revealed yourself immediately." I shrugged, seeing as he was likely right. Still, knowing that he /had/ come to share with us finally, I had no doubt he'd continue. The faun was seated on a low stool directly across from Sunblade, and he was already shifting uncomfortably. We had discovered over the years just how to put a potential suspect off his ease to produce answers. The fire in the grate illuminated Terrance's face while keeping Sunblade in shadow. Terrance looked at me, and we sized one another up. I made certain that the faun was the one to blink first. Slowly, he handed over a bundle which he'd wrapped in the folds of his thick scarf to protect it. My partner indicated that I should be the one to open it, and my clumsy paws made slow work of untying it; even when I saw the contents, I'll admit—only because there's no way these pages are ever going to be seen—that I was as confused as ever.

I held a book, or what might /pass/ for a book, at least, though whatever language it had been scribbled in wasn't even remotely related to anything I'd ever seen. I tossed to Sunblade, at which point our guest gave a sharp gasp of horror at my careless treatment. Sunblade hides it well, but I could tell he was as perplexed as I was. He rested his chin on his hands, in one of his "thoughtful" poses.

"What lead you to remove this from the scene, Terrance Leroy?" His tone was faintly accusatory, and our visitor obviously considered it as such.

The faun, of course, shut up immediately, no surprise there.

I figured it was time for me to intervene. "Sunblade, for all he knew, we were two of the kidnappers. He's coming forward now." I nudged a bowl of walnuts towards the faun. "Hungry?" Grabbing a nut in my paw, I lobbed it towards Sunblade; it found its target and bounced off nicely. The centaur glared my direction as I hefted a second nut. Aiming between his eyes I let fly. " He's /helping/ us, remember?" With a disdainful and piercing scowl in Terrance's direction, Sunblade caught the walnut and proceeded to casually crush it between his teeth as the faun watched, mouth agape.

With a put upon sigh, I turned to the faun. "My apologies. Sunblade is taking this case a bit seriously. Now, you were saying…"

Sufficiently convinced now that he'd seen me intimidate my significantly larger partner, Terrance continued. "They left it…the ones who took the girl. There were a few of them, even bigger than /he/ is," he gestured towards Sunblade, "and I hid—you would have done the same—so I didn't see their faces. I figured you'd be able to understand it; if there's any way I can help her...I've never seen anyone so lovely. I can't make heads or tails of that book either. Really…other than that you know everything I do."

Sunblade looked like he was about to say something else at this, but a sharp look from me put an end to that, and he merely nodded.

"I'm certain we do, Terrance, and you've been most forthcoming with us." Sunblade rolled his eyes at me, but I ignored him. The faun stood and shook my paw, then turned to the centaur, giving him a brusque nod instead. "Well, if there's anything else I can recall, I'll make sure you're aware of it. I trust there's no more reason for me to stay?"

"Of course not," I answered, and he passed out the door.

Sunblade chuckled wryly as soon as Terrance was fully out of earshot. "It never ceases to amaze me how that works, but we never fail. You could, however, have managed to throw those projectiles at me more softly. Now…it will take time to find someone who can enlighten us about what this book contains. Other than the age, the place the paper was made, and the slight indentation in the back cover, I see nothing of note here. In the meantime, we must not wait to act."

I gave a firm nod as I went for the bowl of nuts again, out of hunger this time. "I have a plan."

"That's what concerns me."


End file.
